The original plan for my dad’s weekend in LA was for him to stay until Sunday night. We had a full weekend planned with the concert on Friday, spin class on Saturday, and we were going to check out a couple of museums on Sunday.
But the night before my dad flew down here, he called me with some bad news. My dog, Dante, was diagnosed with a blood vessel cancer and it was pretty advanced. The vet wasn’t sure if Dante would make it that much longer, so my dad wanted to see if I wanted to come home last weekend. After some debating, it was decided that my dad would come down here and then he and I would fly back home on Saturday after spin class and then I would come back to LA on Sunday evening so I could make it to work on Monday.
On Thursday, my dog had a surgery on his leg to remove blood clots (the blood vessels in his leg burst and made his leg very swollen). He wasn’t eating after his surgery and was not really able to walk. When I picked up my dad on Friday, the situation was seeming very grim. Dante still had not had food and he was acting pretty out of it.
But by Friday afternoon, one of our neighbors brought over some wet dog food for Dante to try (my mom couldn’t leave Dante alone to go to the store) and he finally ate something. Later on Friday, my mom emailed me this picture of Dante looking a bit more like his usual self.
He still wasn’t really able to walk too well, but that probably had a lot to do with the giant compression bandage on his leg.
On Saturday, before my dad and I got home, Dante got his big bandage taken off. His incision still has a bunch of stitches (that have to stay in until Thanksgiving), but he was able to walk a lot more. Once my dad and I got home, he was walking a little bit through the house, but since he had just taken a pain pill, he was a little drugged out.
On Sunday, we took him for a little walk outside in the neighborhood to help stretch his leg and to make sure that he stays strong. We usually take him around this one particular long block near our house, and when we got to that corner, he tried to turn the direction that we usually go. So even though he was still limping and walking funny, I felt better seeing that he wanted to just do what is normal to him.
It was tough to leave Dante on Sunday evening. We really don’t know what the future holds for him. My parents are taking him to a dog oncologist this week and we should have a better idea of what we will do then. And even if the oncologist says that he doesn’t have much longer, that doesn’t mean it’s true. There are miracles out there. One of the dogs that is part of the pet therapy program that my mom runs (and Dante is practically the mascot of) had a form of bone cancer and his owner was told that his dog only had 6 months left. That was over a year ago.
But for now, my family is focused on making Dante as happy as possible and giving him the best quality of life we can (which for now means only wet dog food and people food, no more kibble for him). I’m hoping that I will get to see Dante again when I go home next month, but for now, I’m just grateful that my parents paid for me to go home for one day just so I could be with my dog.
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